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| Touch Starvation |
We talk about screen fatigue, productivity burnout, emotional trauma, toxic positivity — oh wait, we already did that here, here, and definitely here.
But let’s address the elephant in the (lonely) room: physical affection is dying, and our nervous systems are waving white flags.
What is Touch Starvation?
(And why does it sound like a Netflix documentary on sadness)
Touch starvation, or “skin hunger,” is a real psychological and physiological condition where a person lacks enough physical human contact — hugs, pats, cuddles, even that weird head-tilt uncle shoulder tap.
Touch releases oxytocin, lowers cortisol, regulates your heart rate, and reminds your brain: “Hey, you're not alone. You're still part of the tribe.”
No touch = chronic anxiety, depression, irritability, and—drumroll—emotional dysfunction disguised as grind culture.
Welcome to India, Where Touch is...Complicated
In India, we either over-touch without consent or under-touch due to moral panic. There is no in-between.
▪ “Beta, touch feet.”
Not affection. It's hierarchy.
▪ “Don't hug, neighbors are watching.”
Because obviously physical affection is anti-national.
▪ Boys? Forbidden to touch anyone without getting labeled.
▪ Girls? Warned since birth that hugs = pregnancy.
▪ Couples? Hug behind autos or risk becoming a viral video on Sanskari Sansani.
We're a country where holding hands is scandalous but sitting on each other’s laps in a family photo is somehow fine.
How the World Is Coping vs How We're Coping
Let’s look at global responses to touch starvation — and then look in the mirror.
France:
“Let’s greet each other with two kisses.”
India: “Namaste. Don’t touch. Don't even blink.”
Brazil:
Hugs and cheek-kisses with strangers.
India: “Who is this random uncle and why is he offering coconut oil with that handshake?”
USA:
Cuddle therapy, professional cuddlers, emotional safe spaces.
India: “We’ll die before paying ₹1,500 to be spooned by a stranger.”
Japan:
Hug cafes, robotic pets for oxytocin boost.
India: We got Swiggy. And memes. And silent cries in the washroom.
We skipped the “touch innovation” phase and dove headfirst into “hug = hookup = dishonour.”
The Pandemic Made It Worse (Obviously)
COVID didn’t just kill hugs — it murdered non-creepy physical contact. Even post-pandemic, we’re hesitant.
Elbow bumps replaced handshakes.
Zoom calls replaced cheek kisses.
Emoji hearts replaced real ones.
And now, in 2025, people are scared of intimacy altogether. It's not fear of germs anymore. It’s fear of… feeling something.
Remember that time when someone sat too close on a metro and your brain screamed “INTRUSION!” instead of “Wow, human proximity!”
Yeah, your nervous system’s been hacked.
Real Desi Examples: Hugs Are Endangered
The Roommate Hug:
You want to hug her after a bad breakup. She hands you a chai instead.
The Family Avoidance:
You haven’t hugged your dad in a decade. But every birthday he pats your shoulder like you're his cricket coach.
The Relationship Dry Spell:
Been in a situationship for months and still haven’t held hands because “we’re keeping it lowkey.”
Related read: Cry, Have Sex, Repeat
Touch is awkward, even when you’re emotionally close. Because in India, intimacy is scandal, not self-care.
But We Touch Screens 12 Hours a Day
Let’s not forget the absurd irony:
We’re physically starving for touch, but digitally overstimulated AF.
We double-tap strangers on Instagram.
Swipe on people we’ll never meet.
Watch couple reels while dying inside.
(Refer: Dating App Fatigue is Real)
We’ve replaced cuddling with doomscrolling and replaced relationships with “soft-launching” your arm on someone else’s story.
The Emotional Fallout You Don’t Notice
Lack of touch doesn’t just make you sad. It rewires your emotional map:
▪ You become more irritable and cynical (hi, welcome).
▪ You find it harder to trust people.
▪ You confuse digital validation for love.
▪ You self-isolate even when you’re not alone.
(See: Digital Loneliness in 2025)
The next time you snap at someone for breathing loudly or send 17 “K”s to end an argument, ask yourself — when was the last time I got a real hug?
The Identity Crisis of Touch
In India, touch isn’t just a physical act. It’s tied to identity, gender roles, and social anxiety.
If you're too touchy, you're “loose.”
If you're not touchy, you're “cold.”
If you're male and affectionate, you're “weak.”
If you're female and affectionate, you're “asking for it.”
Touch becomes a risk analysis:
Will I be misunderstood?
Will this ruin my reputation?
Will this make someone uncomfortable?
So we freeze. Not because we don’t need affection, but because we’re scared of what it means.
And that fear? It's making us emotionally constipated as a culture.
But Touch Is Also Political in India
Let’s get one thing straight: touch isn’t just personal — it’s policed.
Who gets to hug? Who gets judged for it? Who gets moral-policed into oblivion for holding hands in a park?
Touch in India is tangled in power dynamics, gender roles, class, and yes — caste.
Two men hugging in a Bollywood movie? “Aww, bromance.”
Two men hugging in a village panchayat? “Why are they like this?”
Upper-class couples at airport terminals? PDA = aesthetic.
Working-class folks holding hands? PDA = vulgar.
Queer affection in public? Still taboo, still dangerous.
Straight couples? Also taboo — just slightly less dangerous.
Touch is a soft privilege. The freedom to be emotionally and physically vulnerable in public depends on where you stand in India’s socio-cultural hierarchy.
So while we laugh about awkward hugs, there are entire groups who can’t access safe, consensual touch without fear of backlash, shame, or worse — violence.
And that’s not just touch starvation. That’s touch inequality.
So What’s the Solution? Do We Start Hugging Randoms?
No, please don’t make that your origin story for jail time.
But here are actual ways to bring back touch:
- Normalize Platonic Affection
No, your guy friend won’t explode if you hug him after he cries. In fact, maybe he won’t become the next emotionally stunted gym bro if you do.
Yes, this links to Cry, Have Sex, Repeat.
- Initiate Family Affection
Yeah, Indian parents are awkward. So be the cringe rebel. Hug your dad. Side hug your mom. Expect confusion. Persist anyway.
- Get a Pet. Or Two.
You think you need therapy. Maybe you just need a cat who headbutts you without judgment.
- Cuddle. With Consent.
You don’t have to dive into the deep end. Even hand-holding, back pats, or sitting close on the couch counts. Your nervous system isn’t picky.
- Break the “Sanskaari” Brainwashing
Touch ≠ sex.
Touch ≠ shame.
Touch = humanity.
(Unless you’re a serial hugger at funerals. Then stop.)
The TL;DR?
India is touch-starved AF, and we’re pretending it’s normal to go years without meaningful physical connection.
We have:
🧠 Brains fried from emotional labor (Mental Load is Killing Indian Women)
📱 Dopamine sucked out by tech addiction
🛌 Emotions outsourced to therapy reels
💬 And now, no hugs. Just “lol” texts and three-day-delayed replies
It’s not just a physical gap. It’s an existential one. We’re not just lonely.
We’re untouched — emotionally, socially, culturally.
Final Thought:
Touch isn’t weakness. It’s biology.
We didn’t evolve with opposable thumbs just to scroll endlessly.
We evolved to connect — to pat backs, hold hands, ruffle hair, and occasionally ugly cry into someone’s hoodie.
Go give someone a real hug today. Just make sure you both agree on it.
And don’t make it weird.
Loved this? Read more emotional chaos:
👉 Digital Loneliness in 2025
👉 Mental Load is Killing Indian Women
👉 Cry, Have Sex, Repeat
👉Productivity Guilt? Welcome to Middle Class Hell
This is very touchy topic..
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like you're describing a very fundamental human need for physical comfort and connection during times of emotional distress. You have highlighted the powerful impact a simple hug from someone you trust can have, offering a sense of solace and support that can feel truly therapeutic.
You have also explained touching upon a societal dynamic where, as a woman, directly asking for this kind of physical comfort can feel complicated or even inappropriate, despite the deep yearning for that connection. It's a delicate balance between needing that physical reassurance and navigating social norms and potential misinterpretations.
It seems we have a lot of complex feelings and experiences surrounding this need for physical touch and the challenges you face in expressing it.
It is such a sensitive discussion, not because it’s rarely discussed, but because it’s often treated as taboo, especially in many Asian cultures. Speaking as a woman, I was always taught to be warm and generous, yet I can’t recall any meaningful guidance — positive or negative — about physical touch. As I grew older, I noticed this unspoken rule: avoid physical contact, even with cousins or siblings, as if it were inherently inappropriate. That silence shaped a lot of confusion. I feel fortunate that my immediate family didn’t reinforce that mindset, but it’s clear that so many others aren't as lucky.
ReplyDelete